“Okay, what’s the damage?” I asked with trepidation to the mechanic working on my car.
“Well, it’s not good. You need a new head gasket. I’m afraid the cost to replace it with labor will be more than your car’s worth,” he replied.
I paused as this news sunk in. Thoughts of the implications began to hit me. Continue reading “When a Crumbled American Dream Became a Treasured Blessing”
Do you ever wonder if the credit card companies talk to each other? I do. Some sort of insider trading. Chase bank sends a carrier pigeon to Discover with a note that says, “Katherine is maxed out. Send the offer letter.” Discover then sends out the offer letter and replies with a kickback bonus over to Chase. Said offer letter arrives in Katherine’s mailbox. Continue reading “Hostess With the Mostess”
I was twenty-three when I bought my first home. If you’ve ever bought a home, you know the feeling, the rush of accomplishment holding the keys to the American dream in your hand. Ahhh, a home of my very own – in another thirty years, of course. I couldn’t believe my luck, er – hard work. Naturally I did none of this home buying the Dave Ramsey way. Paid nothing down because I was twenty-three and making entry-level salary at a private not-for-profit liberal arts college, but hey, my monthly mortgage was going to be slightly more than what I had been paying in rent, so it made sense. Plus for the first time I’d have no roommates. The American dream, folks. Can you dig it? Continue reading “The Keys to the American Dream”
Sitting in my full-length faux fur-lined leather coat eating ramen noodles by myself, I decided my time window shopping at expensive shopping malls had sadly come to an end. (If you missed my previous post about the leather coat the Devil bought me, you can read it here.) Just as one doesn’t like to cut any enjoyable activity off cold turkey, I opted to step down to an alternate plan. Thus began my addiction with antique malls and flea markets. It was easy to get lost in the aisles of junk without the temptation of high dollar items. Of course, there was the occasional rabbit fur coat to temp the senses, but most items at flea markets are easier on the pocketbook. Continue reading “No More Window Shopping – Or Something Like That”
The first time I danced with the Devil I was seventeen years old. He showed up in the mail all shiny and new. Chase bank had heard I’d been accepted to college and knew – just knew – I’d need a shiny, plastic friend to help me adjust to college life. I opened the envelope, the excitement already building. Cha-ching! They’d given me a $500 credit line! I felt like I’d hit the jackpot. After a bit of discussion, my parents and I decided it was probably good to begin building my credit, and for, you know, emergencies and such. And so with the peeling of that sticker and signing of my name began my dalliance with debt. As I slid my new buddy into my pocketbook, I whispered, “Oh, the places we’ll go together.” Continue reading “The Leather Coat the Devil Bought Me”